


A Different Kind of First Time

by DemonicSymphony



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, POV John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-22 23:30:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2525669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonicSymphony/pseuds/DemonicSymphony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While looking for a killer in a nightclub, Sherlock finds a soldier to take home... (What-if exchangelock piece)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different Kind of First Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [testosterone_tea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/testosterone_tea/gifts).



> testosterone-tea asked "What if John hadn't been shot in Afghanistan, but he still ended up meeting Sherlock somehow?"
> 
> Thanks to Antidiogenes for all the support, overthemoon for the title, and Bel for the quick read.
> 
> Pinch hit for the What if exchangelock.

John looked around the club with a pint in his hand. A few years ago he’d have protested about how ‘not gay’ he was when his friends suggested they come here. These days he was firmly settled and happy in his bisexuality. He idly rubbed his arm, still a bit fascinated with the tattoo under his shirt when a low baritone sounded in his ear. 

“Hello, Soldier.”

John tensed but looked up to the owner of the voice into eyes that shifted with the light coming off the dance floor.

“Central heterchromia.” John took in dark curls and an angular face, responding before he could stop himself.

A smirk appeared on the man’s face. “Yes. And your dark blond hair is greying. Shall we point out features we have all night?”

With a laugh, John held out his hand. “Alright then. John.”

“Sherlock.” John’s hand was enveloped in long fingers.

“Now that’s a bloody name and a half. Makes up for my boring one. How’d you know I’m a soldier?” John asked as he signaled the tender for another pint.

“Oh, that’s easy. Your haircut. The way you stand. The way you look about you as though planning where you’ll go if we’re attacked.”

John arched a brow as he took a sip of his beer then shrugged. “You have me there. Home though, not a soldier much longer.”

A small look of surprise came over Sherlock’s face. “No?”

“No, trauma surgeon.”

Sherlock crowded John. “Come home with me.”

John studied Sherlock, taking in the lines of his body. _No concealed weapons. Can likely defend himself. Knuckles suggest boxing, but won’t know combat maneuvers._ He grinned. “Yeah, alright. Just give me your address.”

“221B Baker Street. Hurry up and text and tell them where you’ll be. The night is still young. We could get several sessions in before you tell me you hope you don’t see me at work in the morning.”

“I will, at least, cook you breakfast.” John texted the address to his friends, waving his phone at one of them and jerking his head in Sherlock’s direction. Without pausing, John turned and snapped a photo of Sherlock. He peered at it in the light before shrugging and sending it.

Sherlock chuckled low. “Smart. Bit paranoid, but not without merit.”

John paid his tab and nodded to Sherlock. “Alright handsome, lead on.”

A push through the bodies in the club found them outside, hailing a cab. John slid in after Sherlock and reached over, tugging him down for a slow, sensual kiss after Sherlock rattled off the address. His tongue teased Sherlock’s before he dragged his teeth over Sherlock’s lower lip. 

Sherlock grinned and John put his hand on Sherlock’s knee as they rode in silence to Sherlock’s flat. John couldn’t help but observe how comfortable the silence was versus the awkward, ‘ums and hms’ he’d experienced before.

When they reached Baker Street, John paid the fare and followed Sherlock upstairs. Sherlock turned to him with a smirk as they entered the flat and John didn’t hesitate to pull him down into a rough kiss, walking him back until Sherlock hit a wall. He nipped at Sherlock’s lower lip and murmured against his lips. 

“Any reason you have a skull on your mantle?”

“I get bored, it’s something to talk to.” Sherlock answered as he pulled John against him by the hips, grinding them together.

John groaned and nipped at Sherlock’s jaw before kissing along his neck. “Christ, you’re perfectly bizarre. I like it.”

Sherlock chuckled before moaning when John bit down lightly at the bottom of his neck. His hips jerked involuntarily and he held on to John’s hips. “Fuck, bedroom.” He pushed lightly at John and led him toward a door. 

“Bedroom your sole place of not clutter?” John slid out of his coat and yanked his tee over his head once they stepped through the door.

“Mm, mostly, yes. Sleeping, changing, fucking, sometimes reading. The rest of my- life is spent elsewhere.” Sherlock answered as he unbuttoned his shirt in a way John knew was meant to tease.

John shook his head. “Christ, you’re beautiful.”

With a smirk, Sherlock let his shirt drop and stepped out of his shoes. “Your tattoo is new. Completely healed, but you were rubbing it earlier. The ink is fresh.” He stalked to John and leaned down, licking over the RAMC tattoo, making John swear. 

“If you’re not naked in that bed in the next minute, I’m going to go mad. Fuck.” John’s hands fumbled for Sherlock’s jeans, undoing them and pulling them over his hips. “Christ, no pants?” He went to his knees in front of Sherlock, licking a stripe the length of Sherlock’s cock. It drew a gasping moan from Sherlock as John pulled his jeans the rest of the way off. 

Sherlock lifted his feet for John, allowing him to peel off his socks before crawling in the bed. He stroked his cock in slow, teasing movements.

John groaned as he struggled out of the rest of his clothing and scrambled into the bed. He captured Sherlock’s lips in a rough kiss, pressing close. His hand moved down to tease Sherlock.

With a low moan, Sherlock’s hips bucked into John’s hand. He gasped as John’s thumb swiped over the head before dragging down the side. His hand slid down John’s side, exploring him before dropping down to wrap around his cock and give a few short strokes.

“Jesus, Sherlock.” John moaned as his head dropped back. “I want you. I want you on your back, moaning my name. I want to watch you break to pieces under me.”

The words caused Sherlock to gasp and arch. John watched as he whimpered and pled. Sherlock rolled to his back for John and managed to murmur, “Drawer,” as he pointed to the bedside table.

John pawed the drawer open, pulling out lube and a condom. He watched Sherlock for a moment, captivated by the sight of pale flesh dusted by the pink of arousal. His hand slid down Sherlock’s chest as he knelt between Sherlock’s legs. 

He slicked his fingers as Sherlock rolled his hips in an enticing manner. A slight smirk tugged the corner of John’s mouth up as he pressed a finger against Sherlock, drawing a low, pleading moan from him as John pressed the finger inside. 

“That’s it, Sherlock.” John rocked his finger in and out of Sherlock. He watched Sherlock squirm and moan as he opened him. The movements, the pull and drag of his fingers were driving John as wild as they were Sherlock. John bit his lower lip as he slowly withdrew his fingers.

“If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to do it myself.” Sherlock swore as he looked up at John.

John smirked as he opened the condom and rolled it on, stroking himself with lazy strokes in front of Sherlock. “No you aren’t.”

Sherlock made a huffing noise before whining slightly. “Fuck me, John.”

That was all the invitation John needed and he slicked himself before moving forward, cock rubbing over Sherlock before he pushed forward. “Christ.” He swore as he pressed into Sherlock, slowly sinking into him, reveling in how Sherlock felt around him.

He watched Sherlock’s head drop back as he continued pressing in. When he was fully seated, he leaned in, capturing Sherlock’s lips in a rough kiss. The two of them nipped at and kissed one another until Sherlock groaned at John to ‘fucking move’.

John rolled his hips, shoving forward hard, causing Sherlock to arch and rake his nails down John’s back. It took a few minutes for them to find a proper rhythm, but when they did, Sherlock’s hooked his ankles behind John’s back. Sherlock urged him forward over and over again as John buried his face in Sherlock’s neck, biting and licking as he fucked Sherlock.

Both of them were lost in the moment, gasping against one another as their movements grew erratic. John’s hips stuttered against Sherlock as he braced himself, taking Sherlock in hand. His strokes were rough as he murmured for Sherlock to come apart.

When Sherlock broke, it was beautiful. His head dropped back, body arched, his curls a riot around his head. John barely kept himself together as he worked Sherlock through the orgasm. When Sherlock whimpered, John rocked into him hard, hips moving roughly as he chased his own pleasure. A few more thrusts and John was coming, a small, choked cry of Sherlock’s name escaping him.

He buried his face in Sherlock’s neck as he clung to him, the two of them content to lie there, still wrapped up in one another and joined together. Over the next few minutes as they caught their breath they peeled apart and John binned the condom before stumbling into Sherlock’s bathroom. He came back with a warm, damp cloth and cleaned them both before curling back into the bed with Sherlock.

Sherlock grinned as he nuzzled along John’s neck. “Mm. When we’ve recovered, it’s my turn.”

John chuckled and pulled Sherlock close. “Give me a bit and we’ll see.”

The two of them twined their legs together, drifting into a doze.

Somewhere in the early morning hours, John woke to Sherlock’s mouth on his cock and he swore, sinking a hand into those beautiful, dark curls. He gasped as Sherlock worked him fully hard again. The pop of the cap on the lube caught his attention and he groaned in anticipation.

“Fuck.”

Sherlock’s chuckle was dark. “That is my intention.” One long finger sank into John, causing him to throw an arm over his eyes and groan. 

“Oh God, Sherlock.” John bit as his arm to stifle the noises he was making and Sherlock reached up to tug his arm away. 

“I want to hear you.” Sherlock rumbled as he worked John open. 

John groaned as he rolled his hips down against Sherlock. The stroke and slide of Sherlock’s fingers as he made sure John was prepared, was nearly enough to work John right to an orgasm. 

“Christ, it’s been too long since I did this.” John groaned. “Forgot how much I like it.”

Sherlock chuckled as he continued with his fingers, making sure John was stretched properly before sliding his fingers free. “Well, I’ll make sure you enjoy it.”

The sound of the condom wrapper sent a thrill through John and soon he could feel Sherlock pressing against him. He bore down against him as Sherlock pressed in with steady, gentle pressure. John gasped when Sherlock was settled fully inside. 

“God, Sherlock. Fucking perfect.” John groaned as he nipped along Sherlock’s jaw before kissing him slowly.

Sherlock dragged his teeth over John’s lower lip before starting to move drawing moans from John.

“Fuck, fuck, yes.” John gasped as Sherlock rocked back into him with a particularly hard thrust. His nails dug into Sherlock’s shoulders as he whimpered in pleasure.

The sounds of skin on skin filled the room and it was all John could do to hold on as Sherlock worked him. Rough, but attentive, each stroke seemed to be aimed at dragging the most possible pleasure out of John. Christ, it really had been too long since he’d bottomed. It was fucking amazing.

John wrapped a hand around himself when Sherlock pushed up to his knees and bent John’s legs back somewhat. He groaned low and deep as Sherlock’s thrusts grew rough and harsh. His strokes were timed with Sherlock’s and it wasn’t long before he was near keening.

“Fuck, gonna come, Sherlock.” 

Sherlock growled as he fucked John just that much harder. “Come then. Fuck, come.”

With a sharp cry, John tensed, arching as he came, body shuddering. Sherlock fucked him through his orgasm, thrusts becoming erratic until he slammed in one more time and his head dropped forward as he gasped John’s name.

Sherlock dropped down to kiss John and John used his clean hand to card through Sherlock’s curls, whispering soft word of praise between kisses and deep, panting breaths.

It took them a few minutes longer to recover the second time, despite the sleep in between. Sherlock was the one to make his way to the bathroom and clean them both up. John pulled him back into bed and snogged him senseless when he was through.

They spent the next ten minutes lazily kissing and stroking one another’s skin until they both dropped back off to sleep.

John woke alone in the bed, but he could smell breakfast… good breakfast. He rolled out of Sherlock’s bed and pulled on his boxers before padding out to the kitchen. The silver haired man sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee pulled him up short.

“John, Lestrade… Lestrade, John Watson. He’s not our killer.”

With a tilt of his head and furrowing of his brow John blinked. “Hold on, not your killer. You thought there was a possibility I was a _killer_ and you brought me home for a shag?”

“Two, actually. Two very good ones.” Sherlock answered in a bored tone as he handed John a mug of tea. “Drink.”

“Oi! I don’t want to know, Sherlock!” Lestrade piped up. “Christ, mate.” He looked over to John. “No offense. You seem like a nice bloke. It’s just… brother-in-law.”

John grinned and sipped at the tea. He blinked in surprise. “How did you know how I take it?”

“Oh God, don’t get him started, please?” Lestrade said as he finished his coffee. “Look, let me know if you find out anything. I’ve got to get back to my paperwork unless another body turns up.”

Sherlock waved absentmindedly as he flopped down with his plate and gestured for John to do the same.

“See you.” John murmured as Lestrade left. “Hey, I said I’d cook breakfast.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t cook. My landlady did. She enjoys spoiling me while telling me all the reasons 'it’s just this once'.” Sherlock said as he pushed John’s plate to him. “I told her I had a very nice young man over. So she cooked for you, too.”

John shook his head, but tucked into the meal. “So- detective?”

“Consulting, the only one. Lestrade and his ilk contact me when they can’t figure things out. Which is most of the time.” Sherlock shrugged as he popped a bite of toast in his mouth.

“Consulting detective.” John murmured. “You are entirely too interesting to be a one time shag.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “And you definitely should not be left to your own devices.”

“Obviously, we’ve already shagged twice.” Sherlock drawled. “Are you offering your protection, Dr. Watson?”

“Arse. Maybe...”

Sherlock smirked and handed John part of the newspaper and the two fell into companionable silence as they ate.


End file.
